Mirage
by mangoeater
Summary: Voldemort rules the world. Harry must stop him...with the help of one and only Draco Malfoy. HPDM
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter had not been an ordinary boy, in fact he has never been close to normal since the day he was born. With this taken into mind, Harry dreaded what lies beyond his eyelids. Scared of any more abnormalities, Harry persistently closed his eyes and began to adventure with his surroundings.

The air was damp, and he was soaked head to toe. Maybe he had drowned?

Harry fused his eyebrows. That couldn't be right, he could breathe. But he also felt water on his back side; wet, slimy, smelly….the water on his back was really stinky. It reminded him of those unpleasant memories of potion class with Snape's greasy head hovering over him. Maybe Snape tried to drown him with potion, but could not succeed because Dumbledore saved him.

Then it hit Harry. Dumbledore was dead. Snape killed him.

A heavy thump weighed his heart as he remembered. A cold, shivering wind overtook his body that could be identified as hatred. Harry was going to kill Snape, and Malfoy. And Voldemort.

But really first things first. He needed to open his eyes first. But he didn't want to. Harry allowed his laziness to take over and continued with his surroundings.

The temperature of wherever he was felt warm, and he felt himself began to sweat slightly. He didn't have his glasses, meaning that everything will look blurry anyways, so why even spend the energy opening his eyes? Agreeing with his logic, Harry continued with his senses.

There was a slight humming noise in the background and it felt somewhat soothing. His mouth felt bitter, as if he had just swallowed the fluid that covered his backside. Really whoever did this to must felt sadistic to make him nostalgic of Snape. Maybe Snape was the one who did it!

Instantly Harry popped up his eyes. He perused the ceiling. It was dull grey, but it looked as if it had been shiny white before. Tentatively, Harry used his elbows to prop himself up and looked around.

Nothing in the world would have prepared him for this. It looked like a muggle facility, filled with machines of all kind. The machines, like the ceiling, looked dull and would have probably looked impressive in their younger years. The room he was in was trashed. Papers were all over the floor, and liquids covered the premise. And to make matters worse, he was naked, and in a tube.

Why the hell was he in a tube? This tube reminded him of those sci-fi video games Dudley would waste his time on. It looked like a muggle medicine pill filled with potion-like liquid. And he was naked.

The tube was smashed and the fluid that reminded Harry of Snape's potion was spilling out from the tube leisurely. One thing is for sure, Snape didn't do this. A headache was beginning to hatch inside of Harry's head. Feeling exasperated, Harry looked for some clothes, because if he really had to fight someone, he didn't want to do it starker.

The only clothes he could find were lab coats that were bridled with black mold. Feeling more vexed, Harry cleaned them in the sink (he made a gasp of surprise when found out the sink worked). Afterwards, Harry walked out of the room, which comprised of broken down machines and Snape potion and frankly just gave Harry the creeps.

After Harry opened the door, he was faced with a long hall way that again, like everything else, looked run down and old. There were several doors that were attached to the walls of the hallway. Had Harry been in his regular mood, he would have liked to check out the extra rooms. But, he just woke up naked in a tube surrounded by muggle machines, and that just drove him out of his regular mindset. Right now, all he wanted to do was to get the hell out of this place.

Harry imagined an eerie, portentous music playing in the background. Walking bare-foot, Harry reached the heavy doors at the end of the hall way. The doors led to a huge room. But it wasn't the vastness of the room that had caught his attention, but rather where the room had led to. It led to outside. The glass doors, though greased with dust, reflected the outside world. It was raining.

Great, Harry thought. More liquid.

But that didn't stop Harry, because something in Harry felt as though he was trap, and he needed to be outside. His slow, hesitant walk broke out into a full run as he reached for the glass doors.

Bam!

Something shot at Harry, missing him by a foot. Abandoning his desire for release, Harry ran and hid behind a pillar. He turned to look for the source and that was when he realized that he was shot by a muggle gun.

Harry located the source to be an obese, short man with a shot gun aimed at Harry on the balcony of the second floor.

"Who are you?" the man yelled belligerently.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry replied, but realized that may not be the best answer considering that Voldemort was after his head, in addition to that, he had no way to protect himself.

The man snorted loudly.

"Harry Potter? If you're really Harry Potter, I'm Dumbledore's reincarnate."

"I really am Harry Potter!" Harry shouted. This man was really insulting. Harry didn't care that he may have just threw away his life at telling this man his identity. Nobody, who looked like the short version of Uncle Vernon with a muggle gun…wait Dumbledore? This man had to be a wizard! But what was he doing with a muggle gun?

While Harry was contemplating the identity of his shooter, another shot was fired at him.

"Aah!" Harry yapped. The bullet hit the pillar, making a nice round hole near Harry's face.

"I really am Harry Potter!"

"Really, if you are then, start acting like the Gryffindor that you're suppose to be."

"You're shooting at me! I may be brave, but I'm not stupid."

The man grumbled, which Harry had an inkling that it was not very pleasant, before shouting "I won't shoot you if you come out and let me look at you."

"Give me a Wizard's Oath."

The man snorted loudly again.

"I can't give you a Wizard's Oath. First, I don't have a wand with me. Second, we have no witness. Why don't I swear on Dumbledore's grave that I will not shoot you if you come out."

"How do I know that even matters to you?"

"Dumbledore was the greatest man alive."

Carefully examining his face, Harry could not detect a lie. So, cautiously, Harry stepped out of the pillar and looked up onto the man. The man was carefully examining Harry before he _jumped down _from the second floor to Harry's level. The man bounced a bit, greatly resembling a round ball that had been dropped. Harry snickered a little.

"What's so funny?" the man growled.

"Nothing," Harry replied, eyeing the suspicious man.

Harry was wrong, the man did not resemble Uncle Vernon, except for their obese bodies, but rather this person reminded him strongly of Horace Slughorn.

"Are you related to Professor Slughorn?" Harry asked.

"Hah!" The man held up his gun again and pointed it at Harry. "I knew you were after me!"

"No, wait! I'm not after you. I just woke up randomly in a tube. I don't even know who you are!"

The man shrewdly examined Harry before putting down his gun.

"How do I know you're really Harry Potter?"

"I don't know" Harry replied, rather stupefied at the question. How would one know if he was Harry Potter? He didn't possess any special techniques or have any unique skill (but really this question had taken Harry by surprise. Everyone knew he was Harry Potter, and he had just woken up fuzzy headed with a growing headache; therefore, when Harry reflected back onto this memory, he decided that it was not his fault that he sounded stupid).

"What was Albus Dumbledore's favorite candy?"

"Lemon drop" Harry replied, proud of himself for the answer.

"What does he want for Christmas presents?"

"Sock."

"Where's your scar and glasses?"

Harry's hands automatically went to his forehead where his scars would be and felt nothing. Where was his scars? And why could he see so well without his glasses? What happened to him? His hands frantically touched his face to identify any other changes.

It seemed that without the scars and glasses, everything was still the same. Sighing in relief, Harry looked at the man again.

The man looked amused and instantly put away his gun.

"Well, I guess my fortune is slowly changing for the better. Come with me," the man commanded while turning his body. The man walked toward the hallway that Harry had originally came from.

Looking at the rain regretfully, Harry obediently followed. The hallway didn't feel so bad with another person accompanying him.

"So, uh, sir, you never told me your name," Harry said while looking around his surroundings more carefully.

"I'm Hubert Slughorn, brother of Horace Slughorn, but I'm a lot smarter, so don't compare me to him."

Something in the man's attitude told Harry that the consequences of comparing him to Horace Slughorn were not going to be pleasant. Hubert Slughorn lead Harry to a small room that oddly reminded of the Dursley's cupboard that he used to sleep in. But even with his knowledge of the muggle world did not prepare him for what Slughorn was about to do.

Apparently this small room led to a different room. On the wall opposite of the door in which Harry had entered was a set of doors that could open only with the right person. Slughorn took out a white card and made an up and down motion in front of a black plastic box that popped out. Then he pressed his sausage like fingers to another rectangle that on the opposite side of the black box. Seemingly satisfied with his results, Slughorn continued on and pressed his face in front of a small camera that was just above the black plastic box. Finally the metal doors gently opened with a nice gliding sound. The doors revealed a much smaller room which Harry thought resembled an elevator.

"Come, Potter," Slughorn commanded with his boasting voice.

Harry aimless followed Slughorn, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the complexity of this place.

It seemed like Harry's speculation was correct, the small room was an elevator. However, unlike a normal elevator, this one did not have buttons that one can press, but descended abruptly after the doors closed.

"Where are we?" Harry finally spoke, breaking the silence between the pair.

"We are at a muggle government facility," Slughorn replied.

"Why am I here? In fact, why are you here? You're a wizard."

"What was the last thing you remember?"

Harry tried to concentrate on his memories, but drew a blank. He remembered going home to the Dursleys with Ron and Hermione, but afterwards, everything became fuzzy.

"I was going home to the Dursleys after school had just ended."

Slughorn looked at him with a weird expression that Harry could not identify.

"Well afterwards, you went and destroyed all of the Horcruxes. But you failed on your last one," Slughorn replied with a tone that mirrored his expression.

"I-I don't remember anything."

"Most likely memory loss. Ah, here we are."

The elevator doors opened and revealed another hallway, but it, unlike the previous ones Harry encountered, was sparkling clean with fluorescent lights that reminded Harry of an insane asylum in scary movies.

Slughorn walked conceitedly through the hallway, as if bragging to Harry about his accomplishments. Slughorn turned sharply and repeated the procedure that he had performed with his card, finger, and eye. This door opened up to a simple bedroom, but still quite nicely decorated. Instead of the medieval theme that embellished Hogwarts, Slughorn's room was modern and quite muggle like.

Slughorn placed his shotgun at a mahogany desk and opened the drawers to his wand. Slughorn waved his wand and muttered an incantation. A chair appeared immediately behind Harry. Taking this as a request, Harry sat down on the chair. Slughorn, as well, sat down at a nearby chair.

"So, Potter, I think I owe you an explanation," Slughorn started.

Harry licked his chapped lips and gave Slughorn his undivided attention.

"There's really not much to tell about your tale concerning your search for Horcruxes. You, with your smart muggle-born witch, along with that Weasley, found all the Horcruxes and destroyed them. However, you did not foresee that Voldemort would make another Horcrux: his body."

At this Slughorn muttered an incantation and two cups of butterbeer appeared on the table. Harry graciously accepted and gulped it down.

Finished with half of the butterbeer, Harry stopped and looked at Slughorn again.

"So how does that explain why I'm here?"

Slughorn looked peeved but did not answer Harry.

"Since Voldemort did not have much of his soul left, he could only make one. Realizing that all his Horcruxes were destroyed, Voldemort sent others to kill you because he was too cowardly to face you himself. Long story short, you almost died."

Slughorn took a long gulp from his own cup of butterbeer.

Impatiently, Harry asked "And?"

"Don't push me kid, I'm getting there. Damn Gryffindors," Slughorn cursed. "Anyways, the Order of the Phoenix collected your body in hope of a proper funeral. However since you were alive, many volunteered to resurrect you."

"So then they left me at a muggle facility?" Harry claimed.

"Of course not. But you have to understand, by this time, the Order was pretty much decimated, and Voldemort's rule began. The muggle government realized what was happening and tried to defend themselves. They somehow figured out that the Order was the only opposing force, consider much of the Ministry members were already bribed, dead, or under _Imperio_."

A sudden fear grasped Harry's heart and squeezed.

"Wha-"

"The muggles took you," Slughorn said simply, as if that was the easiest thing the comprehend.

"I don't understand."

Slughorn snorted loudly again.

"Didn't think so. You don't look too bright to me anyways."

Harry wanted to shout at the man for being so completely rude, but he knew that that would be unwise considering his position.

"The muggles took a lot of us actually, not just you. A lot of the remaining Order members as well as people who were hiding away from Voldemort at the time. The muggles took them here to do 'research' on wizards."

"What did they do? And what happened to my scar?"

"I quit the wizarding world a long time ago. The Order members asked me to watch this muggle facility. I don't usually do these things, but I own Dumbledore a favor. So I integrated into their system and posed as a scientist. Eventually the Order dispersed and forgot about me. As to what happened to you, the muggles apparently had information that your scar and your glasses were unique to you. They knew that if someone from the wizarding world knew about you, Voldemort would come here. So they preformed surgery on your forehead and eyes so that you are harder to identify."

"So the muggles know about magic?" Harry asked with astonishment. If the muggles knew about magic, then Harry would not like the imagine the world outside those glass doors.

"Not anymore they don't. Voldemort killed all the muggles that knew about magic and created a fascist regime in muggle Britain, similar to the British Wizarding community."

Harry gasped again. Voldemort ruled the muggles? That was just too bizarre for him to take in. He thought that Voldemort was trying to kill all the muggles? Why keep them oblivious to magic? Why not show off the magical blood that Voldemort was so proud of?

"I know what you're thinking, and yes I would have thought Voldemort would do the same thing. However, within a fascist regime, Voldemort could get away with virtually anything. Voldemort himself is not the actual leader. Anthony Wilkes, a known Deatheater, was instructed by Voldemort to pose as the muggle leader. Death Eaters take those who protest against Wilkes' rule and torture them for fun. Nobody has ever left the Death Eaters alive."

"What about the others? Why was I the only one left?"

"Experiments. Many died from the continuous exploitation of their body. If I learned one thing about muggles, it's that they're very creative. They had the brightest idea. If we had more minds like those, I think the wizarding world would be a very different place. They manipulated the wizarding heritage so intricately, that I was quite blown away. Many did not make it," Slughorn paused a little before going on. " Then the wizards found out about this place. Many people came here to collect love ones. Death Eaters used this to claim cruelty within muggles, I can't say I disagree. Muggles had no sense of remorse when experimenting with them, as if the muggles think we're a different breed. The muggles that work here were taken and tortured. No one recognized you since the muggles did not include your name in your information, just a serial number. No one took you," finished by sipping on his cup.

Harry stared at Slughorn as if he had just announced that Severus Snape had proposed marriage to the corpse of Harry's dead mother.

"Had you left through those glass doors, you would not have survived. Here!"

Slughorn took another wand from his drawers and threw it at Harry.

"It's my wand!" Harry exclaimed.

"Nowadays, a wand can get you killed, so don't go waving it to show off," Slughorn said.

"Why? I thought wizards ruled."

"They do, but no one is authorized to obtain a wand unless the you have Ministry permission. And to have a wand appear in front of muggles will get you in more trouble than if you were an illegal Animagus."

"What about muggle-borns?"

"Viritually slaves. Take the dirtiest jobs. Some of them hide out in the muggle world, biding their time. But most are in the wizarding world, acting like 2nd class citizens, just like Voldemort wanted them to be. It's a dirty world out there."

"What about you sir? Why haven't you left this building?"

"It's safer here, nobody to bother me. Beside, I'm being hunted. People know that I worked for the Order. Biggest mistake of my life," Slughorn added.

Harry frowned, this guy sure was acting cowardly like Professor Slughorn, no wonder they were related.

"Stand up! Show me what you can do."

Harry stood up and look at Slughorn. Harry wasn't sure what Slughorn had meant so just waited for further instructions.

"I'm gonna throw a knife at you," Slughorn said with an air of indifference.

"What? Are you cra-"

Slughorn didn't listen to Harry. Instead, Slughorn picked up a knife from his pocket (he had pockets?) and threw it at Harry without hesitation. Panic filled Harry's body, but before he knew it, he smoothly moved his head and dodged the knife.

"Wow, I didn't know I could do that!" Harry exclaimed. Wasn't being unconscious suppose to atrophy your body, not enhance it? Well Harry decided that he was not going to complain about something good happening to him, especially after all the information he had just received from Slughorn.

"I guess, muggles are good for something. They tempered with your muscle system. Enhanced you, you could say. I guess Voldemort isn't the only person who wish to achieve immortality and superhuman abilities. What comes around goes around, it served them right," Slughorn snorted again.

"That doesn't mean they have to be tortured!" Harry exclaimed. So muggles were interested in some experiments, big deal! That didn't mean that muggles needed to be tortured. They didn't deserve it.

"That's because you haven't seen some of the stuff they have done. Gifted wizards and witches were 'genetically' altered," Slughorn used his two index fingers to quote genetically. "Some of them didn't even resemble human beings anymore. If any of them had woken up, I would not be able to imagine the pain they had to go through."

"Well, then why didn't you do anything?"

"Me? My job was to watch over you. I made sure that the experiments that were conducted on you had high levels of success and would not alter you greatly. I told the that 'we have to be careful, that's kid there is important. He may be the key to free us from that monster.' This reasoning worked most of the time, but sometimes they went on without me to conduct research. They were all too curious for their own good. If you had not been a powerful wizard, I don't know what could have happened to you."

Harry felt grateful, even though moments ago he had been enraged with Slughorn for the blatant prejudice and hatred toward muggles.

"What can I do?" Harry asked, more politely.

"Agility and great eye-sight, I believe."

Harry agreed with Slughorn. Harry could see minute details of the room that he would not have noticed previously. If the situation had been lighter, Harry would have laughed at the irony. Poor eye-sight had been a unique trait in the Potter line for generations, and here he was, having better eye-sight than normal people.

"You also heal more quickly than most people. You have stronger endurance and hear things more easily than others. They are all beneficial, so you better thank me."

"Thank you," Harry muttered.

"Well I wouldn't want you to waste all my hard work. Wake up tomorrow, and I'll tell you how to vanquish Voldemort once and for all," Slughorn said.

Slughorn waved his wand and the doors automatically opened. Harry followed Slughorn to a room left of the original room. This room mirrored the previous room in décor. However, it did not have a sense of coziness that had been present in Slughorn's bedroom.

"I'll go transfigure you some clothing, but sleep for now, you must be tired after all of this." And Harry couldn't agree more. Slughorn left the room and the doors closed quickly behind him.

Harry took up his lab coat that had been already dried by now and placed in on the desk. Harry laid down on his bed and covered himself with the blanket. Harry digested all the information that he had received from Slughorn. Today was just one surprise after the another. Harry wondered if Ron and Hermione were okay and if Snape was dead by now, though Harry doubted it. Harry wondered what had happened to Professor Lupin and Tonks and if they had gotten married already. This lack of memories annoyed Harry to no end. Why would he just suddenly forget everything? Why does everything have to be frustrating? What happened everyone he knew? Were they all dead, alive, or slaves to this world that Voldemort has created? What about Malfoy? Was he living the perfect live with his parents coddling with riches while Harry's friends suffered?

With the thought of the blond boy still on his mind, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep and hoped that tomorrow would be better than today.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I forgot last chapter, but really, I don't own HP series, though I wish I did.

Harry woke up the next day to a strange room. Then a deluge of information poured into his mind as he remembered the events on the previous day. He was just about to get off the bed when he heard a loud knock on the door.

"Come in," Harry said.

Hubert Slughorn wore black muggle clothing that looked very expensive and made him look a bit skinnier than yesterday. However Harry was not concerned with Slughorn's outfit but with the things that Slughorn had with him. Slughorn carried Harry's breakfast on a plastic tray. A set of clothing followed, while levitating, Slughorn like obedient children.

As soon as Slughorn had placed the tray on the desk, Harry took the buttered toast and stuffed it down while chugging the orange juice. All in all, it was a very messy breakfast. Slughorn looked at Harry with disgust and snorted again.

"I've been thinking, Potter. I realized that having you here may not be the best. My hard work will all go to waste if you stayed here," Slughorn said, smiling.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, after finishing his meager breakfast provided by Slughorn.

"Well, you see, I tried so hard to make you stronger, so when you woke up, you could defeat Voldemort for all of us."

Harry eyed Slughorn suspiciously.

"So I'm leaving?"  
"Yes, to a friend of mine. He will train you to become a better fighter. Here are some new clothes and some money, just in case you need it."

"Wait, I'm going there by myself?"

"Yes. I believe in you Harry."

"I thought you said I would have died if I left the complex!"

"Well, I didn't take into account your new abilities." Slughorn's smile disappeared, and Slughorn started to look a bit uneasy.

"But you said you worked really hard to ensure my abilities, so you must have known everything I could do. You threw a knife at me!"

"Well, Harry, you see-"

"You're the worst liar." Harry was seething inside.

"You are a liability. If people found out that I sheltered you, the consequences-"

"What about when I was unconscious? If the consequences were so bad, why didn't you let me go out those doors?"

"Well, I didn't really think about that yesterday. I mean, it has been quite a while since I had seen someone and really, can you blame an old man for being curious?"

At this, Harry stood up, glaring at Slughorn as if Slughorn was Voldemort himself.

"You owe Dumbledore a favor!" Harry raged.

"I did and repaid it when I step my foot into this building! You may be mad at me now, but you haven't been through everything I have. Even Grindelwald's reign was not so frightening. I regret ever mingling with the Order. Look where it got me! I'm lonely and poor. If I had just been a little more Slytherin like, ignored my guilty conscious, I could be rich, eating rich wine and gourmet food! It's all because of you! If you had just killed Voldemort the first time, no one would have suffered! You're the boy hero! You failed! Don't blame it all on me because you're a failure!" By now Slughorn's face was purple and was breathing heavily.

Harry stayed silent. Slughorn's words hit a nerve. A heavy thud of guilty began to overtake Harry, even then Harry was still enraged by Slughorn's behavior.

"Well, at least I'm not a coward," Harry said, almost whispering, and began to walk out the door.

"Stop you stupid boy! Wear some clothes!"

Harry was embarrassed to realize that he was still naked and did not dressed in the clothing that Slughorn had presented. Feeling himself burn up, Harry quickly grabbed a shirt and a pair of pants. Slughorn snorted in the background.

"I'm not throwing you out on the street, Potter. I'm just giving you over to another friend. By the way, I was not lying, he could really help you. He used to be top-notch Auror of his time, before what was his name, that weird eyed one, Moodswing?"

"Moody," Harry grumbled as he zipped up his pants.

"Yes, that one. My friend was quite legendary and without him, I don't know how Dumbledore would have defeated Grindelwald." Slughorn looked smug as if this friend's success was due to Slughorn's influence. But after acquainting himself with Slughorn, Harry did not trust a word Slughorn said.

Harry eyed Slughorn suspiciously.

"I'm not lying. Honest, on Dumbledore's grave," Slughorn added quickly.

"Fine, I'll go. It's not like I have any other choice in the matter," Harry replied.

"Before you go, lemme shrink your wand."  
"What?"

"Shrink your wand, so no one would suspect you are a wizard."

Slughorn picked up Harry's wand and muttered an incantation. Harry's wand shrinked to about two inches, which made it look like a small pencil.

"The incantation is _Reducio_. You can just mutter the incantation without another wand, and it will shrink on its own," Slughorn said proudly.

"How do you make it return to its normal size?"

"_Engorgio._ You can do this wandless. It's quite easy."

An awkward silence ensued. Slughorn looked at Harry expectedly.

"I'll just go then," Harry said.

"Here's the address. Number 12 Grimmauld Place. I was nice enough to write you directions, here you go," Slughorn smiled treacly at Harry.

Harry uneasily looked at the directions Slughorn had written up.

"20 miles! That's going to take me forever!"

"You're young. It'll be fine. You should look on the bright side of thing. This trip can get you started early on your training!"

Harry glared evilly at Slughorn. Slughorn laughed uneasily.

"Well, I'll just see you out, why don't I."

Harry followed Slughorn while glaring holes on Slughorn's back. Slughorn must have realized this and not once, during the entire trip from the underground bedroom to the glass doors, did Slughorn turn around to look at Harry. The trip had been uneventful and was laced with uneasy silence.

"Here you are Harry. Best of luck to you," Slughorn looked at Harry for the first time.

You just want me to leave as soon as possible, Harry thought. He angrily pushed the glass doors open and breathed in the fresh air.

The street was silent, contrasting greatly to the old London which was always noisy. There were no cars or buses that ran around. Harry looked at both side of the street and could not find a single living thing. The sky of dark grey, perfectly reflecting the atmosphere of Harry's surrounding.

This was definitely a different turn of events. He never expected Slughorn to change his attitude so quickly.

Harry looked at his directions and hoped that Slughorn had given him the correct information. Harry wondered what kind of person was living within Grimmauld Place. It must be someone from the Order, but Harry hated the thought of anyone from the Order, except for Mundungus, would be friends with Slughorn. Harry wondered if anyone else from the Order was living within Grimmauld Place. Harry certainly hoped so, in fact, he hoped that Ron and Hermione continued to lived there. Maybe they had gotten married? Maybe they both died? Harry's questions stopped at that thought. What if Ron and Hermione really died?

Harry shook his head and told himself that he needed to first defeat Voldemort as soon as possible, then he would try to find his friends. Even if his friends were alive, he didn't want to jeopardize their lives because of his mission. Thoughts continued to go through Harry's brain as he walked silently.

After couple of hours (or at least in Harry's opinion), Harry began to wish he had a watch. Since the sky remain the same color, Harry had no way to tell what the time was. But if he had to guess, he would think it was almost evening (considering the fact that he had slept a great deal last night, or was it day?).

After couple more blocks, Harry began to see human activities.

Every face was painted with gloom and listless emotions that it began to depress Harry's mood even more. Everyone walked the same pace, not slow or fast, as if they were all puppets. Nobody interacted with one another and quite frankly, it scared the hell out of Harry.

Harry avoided those people the best he could and walked more quickly. When he finally reached Grimmauld Place, the sky was pitch black, and not a person was in sight.

Harry looked at the space between Number 11 Grimmauld Place and Number 13 Grimmauld Place. Last time he stood at this spot, half of the Order accompanied him. Harry whispered _Engorgio_ and pointed his wand at the space, when suddenly he felt a jerk at his navel, a feeling similar to Portkey travel, and he was suddenly standing inside of Grimmauld Place.

Harry took a defensive stance while looking around this house that was full of memories, memories perhaps he had lost during his coma. The elf heads were looking as dreary as ever, and the house was a bit livelier looking than when he had first seen, but was nothing compared to his Grimmauld Christmas with Sirius. Harry sighed in defeat. Thinking of all the people who have died made Harry ache, especially when he knew these people had died when he could have prevented it.

"Who's there?" a loud voice interjected Harry's thoughts. Harry quickly looked around and saw no one.

Well at least this guy didn't try to shoot me, Harry thought.

"Hubert Slughorn send me to you sir," Harry said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Slughorn?" the voice asked, echoing throughout the house.

"Yes."

"Tell him he hasn't paid me back from last time. In fact, tell him that I'll eat dragon dung before I help him!"

"Sir, I'm not here for money. Mr. Slughorn sent me over here for some training."

"Training?" The voice was no longer echoing, rather it came right behind him. Harry quickly turned around and pointed his wand at the stranger.

This old man had snowy white hair that went down to his back with an equally white, and thick, mustache that greatly resembled whiskers. The man came up to Harry's chest and wore heavy purple robes. The most distinguishing feature about this man's appearance was his wooden crane for support. This crane was taller than its owner and reached to Harry's chin.

All in all, this man looked like those oriental sages that had infinite knowledge to teach the younger generation. At this thought, Harry's mood uplifted.

Maybe this guy can actually tell me something useful rather than depressing news, Harry thought.

"Well?" the man spoke.

"Uh, yes, I'm here for training," Harry replied

"Training for what?"

"To kill Voldemort."

At this reply the man laughed loudly. Harry looked at the man with exasperation; however, the old man did not seem to realize that he had affronted Harry and continued to laugh. For a really long time.

Harry waited impatiently for him to stop.

Finally, after several minutes of continuous laughter, the man began to stop.

"That's a good one. I haven't laughed like that for a long time. I didn't know Slughorn had funny friends." The man used his long mustache to wipe the tears that formed on the side of his eyes.

"No, I'm serious. I'm here so that you can help me defeat Voldemort."

The man looked at Harry as if Harry had two head.

"No, I can't help you, sorry."

"What? Why?"

"I don't want to die."

"You're already old as it is; you'll probably die tomorrow. You're acting exactly like Slughorn! I knew Slughorn would never send me someone that could _actually_ help me." Harry began to rage, and a nearby dirty vase broke. Harry turned toward the door and began to walk out the door.

The curtains to the painting opened and a woman began to screech, her voice tantamount to that of a banshee.

"FILTHY BLOOD-TRAITERS! VILE, DISGUSTING-"

"Oh, shut up!"

The man took out his wand and the voice of the deceased Mrs. Black was muffled.

"Come back here! You can't just compare me to Slughorn and turn around. I have more honor than that."

Harry turned around but his anger was not at all alleviated by the man's words.

"That's funny, Slughorn said about the same thing about his brother, then he kicked me out of his house so he won't be killed. You're exactly like Slughorn!"

"Slughorn threw you out?"

Harry glared at the man.

"What's your name? You must be someone important for Slughorn to throw you out. He's been begging me for company."

"Harry Potter."

The man gasped and clutched his chest, looking at Harry with a mixture of surprise and happiness.

"_The _Harry Potter?"

"Yes, _the _Harry Potter."

"Well, come on in, why didn't you say so in the first place. Have some tea."

The man graciously led Harry Potter to the kitchen and a set of tea and biscuits appeared on the table. Harry sat and grabbed some biscuits and sip his tea, after all he had not eaten since his measly meal with Slughorn.

"Slughorn didn't tell me his mission was to watch over you. And to think all this time I faulted him, thinking he was hiding all this time, but really he was watching over you."

"No, he was hiding. He thought I would never wake up," Harry said grudgingly.

The man looked at Harry approvingly. Harry had a hunch that this man detested Slughorn just as much as Harry.

"So, Slughorn told you to come here for training?"

Harry nodded, studying his would-be-teacher. This man's face was bursting was wrinkles, all folded and droopy, which covered his eyes and made his eyes slit-like. His hair, though at far looked well groomed, was frizzy and all over the place. While Harry can not really judge others on their grooming, after all his defiant hair was second to none, this man looked like he could really use some good hair-brushing.

It just looks like bad case of pubic hair, Harry mused, unintentionally slipping out a snicker.

"Good, looks like Slughorn had done something right for once. I'm Regulus Black, nice to meet you Harry Potter." The man stuck out his hand for Harry to shake.

Harry shook the hand and looked questioningly at the apparent Regulus Black.

"Are you brother of Sirius Black?" Harry asked. Harry was under the impression that Regulus Black was dead and would look younger.

"No, Sirius Black was my grand-nephew, my other grand-nephew was Regulus Black, I presume you were talking about him?"

Harry nodded again.

"Do I that young?"

Harry vigorously shook his head.

"I didn't think so. What exactly did Slughorn tell you about me?"

"All I know is that you used to an Auror who helped Professor Dumbledore during Grindelwald's reign," Harry answered.

"Ah, Dumbledore, good man that one, too bad he's dead. However, Slughorn's information is a bit misleading. I used to be an Auror, yes, however, I quit way before Grindelwald came to power. I am not best known for my work as an Auror, but as a Dark Wizard. Are you still willing to study under me?"

Harry looked at Regulus Black for a long time. Slughorn deceived Harry, making it seem as though Harry was really learning from an Auror instead of a Dark Wizard. At least this Regulus Black was honest and respected Dumbledore.

Yes, but Voldemort as well as Slughorn both respect Dumbledore, a voice in Harry's head interjected.

What could he really do? What other choice did he really have? He had beat to Voldemort, but was that enough of an excuse to practice the Dark Arts?

Then the picture of desolate, bleak muggles came to his mind. He remembered what Slughorn had said about muggle-borns; "_virtually slaves,_" whispered through his ear, making him tremble.

Harry looked at Regulus Black in the face. He knew what he had to do.

"I'll do it, just don't expect me to be a Dark Wizard," Harry finally said.

Regulus Black nodded solemnly.

"Your training will start tomorrow, make sure to sleep enough. I'm not going to be nice or treat you like some child who needs protection. In fact, I don't even think you're going to succeed; however, you are possibly our last hope."

Harry analyzed what Regulus Black said. Black used "our" instead of the muggle's or muggleborn's, meaning he must be opposed with Voldemort as well.

Regulus Black gave Harry more food, something more substantial than just tea, and allowed Harry to retire for the night. Regulus Black did not tell him what room to sleep in and merely went into the room at the end of the hallway. Harry, therefore, choose the room he had stayed at his last visit, in which he had shared with Ron, and was happy to find it with a bed, blanket and pillow.

These two days had been so weird, Harry thought.

Harry knew that he was still in denial. The gravity of the situation had not really began to pull on Harry. He just felt as though he was stuck in a horrible dream where he was lonely and tired. Why did so many of these things happen to him? Why couldn't the world just work itself out for once?

Harry fell asleep after these pessimistic thought; he had quite a tiring day.

Cold, freezing water, that felt like fire, hit Harry full force.

"AHH!" Harry screamed and jumped out of his bed immediately.

"Good morning, young Potter," chimed a voice.

"What the fuck? Why the hell did you do that?"

"You need to wake up for training," Regulus Black said.

"Why couldn't you just shake me like regular people?" Harry asked as he dried his clothes with his wand.

"So then, you will learn to wake up by yourself."

"What time is it?"

"It's 5 o'clock in the morning."

Harry groaned loudly and decided it was too early for anyone to be awake at this time.

Regulus Black led Harry down stairs to dirty carpet that reminded him of his lab coats.

"Potter, stand on the carpet and you will run."

"What? How do I -"

The carpet began _rolling_. At a closer look, the carpet was shaped itself into an oval that was flat on the top and began to roll around in circles. This action reminded Harry of muggle treadmills that the Dursleys had bought Dudley, who broke it after just two weeks. The carpet was a foot into the air and made Regulus Black shorter than he was.

Harry began to jog in order to stop himself from falling off the magical carpet.

"You will run for two hours everyday to keep up endurance. Then you will have breakfast. At 7:30, after breakfast, you will work on school work with me. At 12:00 you will have lunch. At 1:00 you will train through various exercises. At 5:00 to 7:00 you will have free time to do as you please. At 7:00 you will study dueling with me. And finally, at 10:00 you will go to sleep and wake up at 5:00. This will be your daily routine, do you understand?" Regulus Black said all of this in a very McGonagall-like way.

"Yes," Harry grumbled. He knew he had to work hard, but this was borderline obsession.

"That's yes, sir, to you Potter."

"Yes, _sir._"

"Don't give me attitude Potter."

Harry kept quiet and continued to run. Whenever he would get into a comfortable pace, the carpet will always speed up. Harry, not willing to give up on his first try, was trying his hardest to keep up with the stupid carpet. To his surprise he did this continuous for two hours and was not too tired as well. At precisely 7:00, the magic carpet stopped and rolled itself out to its original size. It gently flew onto the floor and looked innocuous.

Harry, satisfied that he didn't show weakness to Regulus Black, walked toward the kitchen for a well deserved breakfast.

"Harry, you never told me what happened to you all these years," Regulus Black appeared out of nowhere and somehow stood right in front of Harry.

He probably Apparated, Harry thought, ignoring the voice which reminded him that he had not heard the distinct _pop._

"Slughorn said the muggles took me and did experiments on me. He said I that some of my senses were sharper than normal people," Harry replied absentmindedly as he ate his breakfast.

"Like what?" Something in Regulus Black's questions seemed off.

"My eyesight for one, and I can hear better than most people. I have stronger endurance and quicker reflexes. Oh, I also heal a lot quicker."

"And why didn't you tell me this before your training?" Regulus Black looked somewhat angry.

Why the hell is he getting pissed about something so trivial, Harry thought.

"It never came up in the conversation."

"Well, this changes many things, you must understand don't you?"

Harry stopped eating and looked at Regulus Black, something in his tone wasn't right. Regulus Black, although seems like an alright guy, never sounded nice or pleasant (probably because he has a raspy, croak-like voice) to Harry. This question that Regulus Black asked was exactly opposite of the tone the he used on Harry previously.

"I don't think I do sir," Harry continued to look at Regulus Black for any sign of emotion.

"Since you're different from _normal_ people, you can't have normal training Potter. One thing I hate more than traitors are lazy people. You're being lazy Potter!"

Before Harry could defend himself against Regulus Black's claims, he was pulled into the living room again and next to the dreaded carpet.

Regulus Black accio'ed four boxes that were resting on the table. He opened the box and revealed the contents to Harry.

Inside were black straps that seemed to be made of fabric. Harry had never seen anything like so he did not know what to expect from Regulus Black.

"I was going to use these for your 1:00 exercise. I wanted you to simply walk around them, but since you're not _normal_, I think I'll be using them right now."

With that said, Regulus Black took the black straps and wrapped them around each of Harry's limbs. At first the straps felt like nothing, but Harry knew Black was up to something.

"Activate," Black said.

Suddenly, Harry's limbs dragged down and he felt like he was twice his weight. Harry looked at Black for some explanation.

"It adds weight, helps with your muscle. Now, you will run again on the carpet, and this time with the straps on. Don't try to fool me again Potter, or the results won't be pretty.

"That's not fair! I didn't mean to do anything of the sort. I just forgot yesterday. Everything's been a big shock and-"

"Don't make excuses! Now get on the carpet and start running!"

Harry had to literally bit his tongue from lashing out at Regulus Black. It honestly wasn't his fault that he was overwhelmed! Why should he punished so much for a small blunder? He could have easily told Black today, which he did, and it would have been just the same as if he had told Black yesterday.

Even though Harry would have like nothing more than argue with this unfair treatment, Harry compliantly walked onto the carpet.

As if reading Black's mind, the carpet rolled faster. Harry almost had to break into a full run to prevent himself falling.

"Now Potter, raise your arms straight out onto your sides."

Harry did as he was told.

"Then move your arms to the top of your head and make a clap."

Harry did that as well, feeling really stupid for doing something so bizarre and running at the same time.

Black used his wooden crane and whacked Harry hard on the head.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Keep your arms straight! Don't bend them! Now continue doing them!"

Harry had to simultaneously clap his hands at the top of his head, with straight arms, and run fast. However, that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when every time his arms was anything less than 180 degrees, or his speed of clapping and running was not fast enough, he would get a nice whack on the head.

By the end of the two hours, Harry's arms felt like they were going to fall off and his head was woozy, like he was going to pass out any second. His legs were automatic and didn't feel like it belonged to any part of his body. Because he was feeling all of this, his form and speed naturally slipped, so he got a whack from the evil crane ever five seconds (yes, Harry counted). Black didn't even bother changing up the place where he hit Harry; it would always be the same place and Harry knew he had an gigantic bruise at where he was constantly abused.

When the gruesome two hours finally ended, Harry fell onto the couch and hoped that some deity up the heaven took pity on him and killed him on the spot, because he body was aching and his vision began to dim. His body felt like it was boiling and he was soaked head to toe with sweat.

Black offered him a bottle of water.

Harry grabbed the bottle and drank until his stomach felt full. Realizing that the bottle was refilling itself, Harry poured a great content of it over his Harry, which soaked the couch.

Black gave an exasperated sigh and muttered _Scourfigy_, cleaning up the wet mess.

Harry felt a little triumph that he had managed to annoy Black in some way.

"Now Potter, go eat breakfast, and I'll see you in half and hour," Black said.

Harry didn't need to be told twice and walked over to the kitchen to resume his breakfast. Nothing in his life tasted so good, not even Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

Harry would have been perfectly content in eating his breakfast for the rest of the day, but unfortunately, Black came into the kitchen at the end of the 30 min. and dragged Harry into one of the bedrooms.

"Since you wrecked my schedule, we we'll have to cut something. I've decided that you don't need to learn dueling as of yet. Now, we are going to go over complex spells, charms, and hexes, so pay attention," Black said with indifference and began to read from a heavy textbook called _10,000 Most Effective Spells._

Harry seethed inside. It wasn't he who wrecked the original schedule, but rather Black himself. But he was too tired to really argue with Black right now and decided to stay quiet.

"Are you listening to me Potter?"

Harry nodded robotically and tried his hardest not to fall asleep with Black's droning voice that greatly resembled Professor Binns.

At noon, Black finally allowed Harry to go to lunch, but not before testing Harry on the information from the book. Luckily, most of the spells Black discussed were spells that Harry was already acquainted with. After lunch, Black changed the book to Transfiguration. But since today was Harry's first day, Black gave a tedious introduction to Transfiguration, which was just a conglomeration of McGonagall's beginning of the year speech. To Harry's horror, Black decided that the extra two hours should be spent on more physical exercise. Finally at ten, after various (and useless in Harry's opinion) exercises, Harry was allowed to go to bed. His body stank of sweat and his clothes were all soaked once more. Too tired to shower or undress, Harry jumped onto his bed and immediately fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own HP

Harry was surprised to find that his body quickly adjusted to the extreme work out sessions planned out by Black. Now, the most difficult part of his day was staying awake during his teacher's lectures. Harry had a nasty suspicion that Professor Binns had procreated, when he was alive, with the Black family and created Regulus Black. Since Regulus Black's size made him look like a miserly goblin anyways. Of course Harry kept these thoughts to himself.

The other hard part of his day, though not as close as enduring lectures, was dueling practice. While Regulus Black had a gift to be mundane and boring in lectures, this gift did not extend to dueling. Ever since Regulus Black demonstrated his dueling skills, Harry began to respect Regulus Black, especially at that age, for his talent. Black, being the miserable old git that he was, made sure that Harry's dueling skills were impeccable and up to par with himself.

Everyday Black would shout:

"Don't be so obvious Potter, even a first year can see what spells you're going to use with _that_ wand movement!"

Harry, due to his quick reflexes, had already advanced to nonverbal spells. Nonverbal spells were hard to master to begin with, especially when Harry had Snape as Defense Against Dark Arts teacher in sixth year, but Regulus Black insisted that Harry combine more than two spells.

So, everyday, Harry would try his hardest to combine three, maybe four, nonverbal spells and direct it at the Voldemort dummy Regulus Black had transfigured. Harry's weakness would always be his wand movements. Once Harry had mastered how to use nonverbal spells, it then became of matter of being discreet so that his opponents would not detect what spells Harry was going to use.

Harry would be most content when Regulus Black himself dueled with Harry. Even though Regulus Black had been a Dark Wizard, he had great skills that Harry envied. One grateful thing Regulus Black did, because Harry was not grateful for anything else Regulus Black would do for him, was that he took his promise to heart and never coerced Harry into Dark magic.

But Regulus Black's skills and generosity to keep his promise were the only good factors in living with the antiquated Black. Everything else, in Harry's opinion, sucked. Harry had to continuously wake up at five in the morning; Black stopped pouring freezing water on Harry after the first month. Harry had to endure around 15 hours of a grumbling old man who complained daily that he "had never met a more insolent boy" in all his 140 years or that "Hubert Slughorn should be hexed until all the blubber on his body fell off" (here, Harry would wholehearted agree and nod his head enthusiastically). Hubert Slughorn, who seemed to unable to realize that the glare sent to his ways were really out of hatred and vexation, would drop by often to "chat," which actually stood for "Regulus, I need more funds to keep dangerous muggle boys out of my house." Of course, Harry's favorite part about his whole stay was that his two hours of "free" time was actually running errands for Regulus Black, such as buying grocery.

These two hours were the only time Harry had with the outside muggle world. The muggle world, like Harry's first impression of it after the day of his coma, was quite bleak and oppressive. The muggles whispered, as if talking too loudly had great consequences. Children were rarely seen outside and laughter occur as much as the sun shone (which was never). Another weird thing about the muggle world was that it was completely devoid of vehicles. The only modes of transportation Harry had seen were bicycles and walking.

After dinner, Harry would walk the similar path to the same grocery store everyday and chat or eavesdrop on muggle conversations. The news he heard was hardly good, but muggles were still entertaining in their own way.

Everyday, Harry would talk to a middle-aged dark haired muggle man named Jim, who was the manager of the grocery store. Then Harry would gossip with a brunet in her late twenties who flirted shamelessly with Harry along with her group of friends, who all worked at the grocery as well.

"My cousin has a friend who has a friend that swam across the English Channel to France to run away from all of this," Candace, the brunet, would say.

"Well, one of my distant relatives was shot when he tried to do that. Then the police came for all of the family members. My mum was scared out of her wits that they'll come for us," Beatrice, one of Candace's friend, would say with fear in her eyes.

Of course Harry knew anything coming out of those girls' mouth were all gibberish, but it reflected the fear that muggles felt under the reign of Voldemort. Jim and Mark, a grocer boy, were the most informative with muggle news.

"Even though there are great evidence that support that Wilkes was behind all those deaths, the UN still refuse to do anything, they're _discussing_ whether all those evidence are true," Mark would spat. Mark, apparently, was the brave one and was not afraid to talk smack about the government. Jim, who was more sagacious, would always say: "quiet down Mark, what if they'll hear you, don't you know what happened to Bill?"

Of course, everyone in the neighborhood knew about Bill. From what Harry gathered, Bill was in an organization that planned a revolt against the government. A month before Harry's wake to society, Bill and the rest of his family were taken by the police.

Harry was wise not to engage in any serious conversations with muggles about himself and gossiped as much as possible to deter any suspicions. Harry was quite proud of his ability to make up random stories in hush tones to match Candace and Beatrice. For example the other day, he made up the story that his "friend got pissed off at a police officer, so he cursed at the police and had to go to jail for two months."

From the conversations of Jim and Mark, Harry was able to determine that the British Isle was completely isolated, even trade was closed off. All international businesses were closed and the only foreigners that were allowed were diplomats. It seemed that the UN was indecisive on what to do with the situation; as of now, everything of shaky and people were waiting for something to happen. Harry also figured that he had been in a coma for three years, so he was already 20 years old. Something in Harry was penitent of the lost years.

His daily routine became a fix and Harry slowly adjusted to his new life. This life was perfectly fine (well, not perfectly as in a good life, but perfectly as nothing was amiss because Harry knew that his ultimate goal was to kill Voldemort) for about eight months until one day, Regulus Black decided to change Harry's dueling schedule.

"I think you have already mastered in dueling," Black said.

Harry beamed at this.

"I believe that we should move on to the Unforgivable."

"What?" Harry asked.

"You heard what I said. I know that you detest Dark magic, but I believe that in order to succeed in defeating Voldemort, you need to at least learn the Killing Curse." Black's countenance was apathetic.

"But, you promised that I didn't have to be a Dark Wizard!"

"Just because you know how to use the Killing Curse doesn't mean you're a Dark Wizard. After all, how do you think Albus Dumbledore defeated Grindelward?"

"Shut up! Dumbledore didn't have a choice!" Harry knew he was ranting and he had no idea how Albus Dumbledore defeated Grindelward, but he was not going to learn how to kill people.

"And neither do you, Potter. You've seen those muggles suffering; you have no choice."

"Is that why you always send me out, to see muggles suffer so then I'll be forced to learn the Killing Curse? You're sick! All of you slimy Slytherin!" Harry was seeing red, Regulus Black manipulated him into learning the Killing Curse.

"First of all, I'm not a Slytherin, and second, whatever method I employ, it's going to help you defeat Voldemort."

"No it's not! There's has to be another way!"

"It's either my way or no way at all."

"I'll learn more curses; I'll be better at dueling! _There has to be another way!_" Harry was desperate; he didn't want to learn the Killing Curse.

"There's nothing more I can teach you. If you don't want to learn the Killing Curse, then you should just go, there's nothing left for you."

"FINE! I WILL!"

Without thinking, Harry stormed out of Grimmauld Place and ran as fast as he could.

After a while, Harry began to regret his decision to storm out. Luckily, his pocket contained the muggle money that Slughorn had given to him the first day, but he knew that wasn't going to last.

I'll get a job, Harry thought, and train the rest of time. I'll find another way to kill Voldemort.

Even with that plan in mind, Harry had no idea where he was going to stay. He looked at his watch, which Regulus Black gave to him to make sure he "got home on time and didn't laze around", and it read 9:30. Curfew was at 10:00. He had only thirty minutes to find a place to stay or risk getting caught by the police.

Harry continued to wait aimlessly until he heard a small noise. Harry jogged to get closer to this noise. As he jogged further, Harry realized that this noise was music.

Harry jogged about ten minutes when he came to a street with no lights except for a neon pink sign that read _Mirage_. The music was coming from inside. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Harry walked into the place.

His senses were overloaded with booze, sex, and smoke. The place was crowded with rough looking men whose eyes were glued onto stay where an endowed woman was dancing topless to the loud music.

Harry quickly scanned to room and sat on a stool to the bar.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked.

"Do you have a room I can stay at?" Harry asked instinctively, not realizing that this was a strip club, not a hotel.

"Actually, I do. Do you have money?"

Harry and the bartender quickly bargained for the room price before the bartender handed Harry keys to his room.

Seeing as nobody else was leaving the place even though it was past curfew, Harry stayed.

"Business is kind of slow these days," bartender said.

Harry looked around and had no idea what the man was talking about considering the place was filled.

"It's looks good to me," Harry replied.

"No, there used to be huge lines that went around the whole building, but ever since the news that the U.N. might send forces down here, police control got more tight. People are afraid to mess with the law, so they stay at home."

"About that, isn't it after curfew? Why are people allowed to be here?"

The bartender just laughed.

"You don't get out much do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Bribery. Place opens at eight, so no one gets in trouble; it closes at four, but police are blind near that time, so don't worry too much." The bartender patted Harry on the back.

Harry was a mess inside. This world, where fear and corrupt was ubiquitous, has to end. _He_ was the one who has to stop it. Harry was suddenly scared at the whole notion. He always knew he had to kill Voldemort, knew that the world was on his shoulders. Yet, he never realized the great impact he would make if he actually managed to kill Voldemort. Did he make a mistake in refusing to learn the Killing Curse? One death for a safer world, but it was _he_ who has to cause that death.

Harry knew he didn't want to end up like Voldemort. But, wouldn't learning that curse constitute him as a Dark Wizard? Would learning this curse make him take the same path as Voldemort?

Regulus Black's words rang in his ears. How did Dumbledore manage to kill Grindelward? The Killing Curse? Yet, Dumbledore was no Dark Wizard.

Harry realized that he should have considered this before storming out on Regulus Black, but he couldn't take it back, and he must try to find some way to kill Voldemort without the involvement of the Killing Curse.

Harry asked the bartender to the directions of his room and went to bed with his head still filled with apprehension and questions.

Harry, during the day, walked around the neighbor to find work, but every place was already filled or the owner was apprehensive to hire a unruly looking young man with no identification on him. Harry continued to come down to the pub everyday to get himself a drink. He contemplated on what he was going to do and tempted himself to ask the bartender for a job. The atmosphere remained the same throughout and the same type of men came and went into the place, until Tuesday night.

On Tuesday night, something was off about the place. The people were different. For one, there were a lot more women and the men were not as criminal-looking as before, though there was a roomful of those guys as well.

"What's going on tonight?" Harry asked.

"Queer Night," bartender answered.

"Queer?"

"You know, homosexuals."

"I know what they are, just why are you having a night for them?"

"To make money of course. You have no idea how repressed they are due to the new government. Hardly ever allow them to go out."

Harry looked around the room and noticed that there were a lot more people than the previous days. Everyone was a bit friendlier, and they seemed to know each other.

Oh well, I'll just stay around and see what happens, Harry thought. After all, he had nothing to do that night.

Like every other days, strippers would get on the stage and perform erotic dances (except this time there were males are well). Some people were watching the show, while others were having side conversations about this and that. Harry licked his chapped lips and used his right hand to support his head to watch the show. Harry enjoyed the showed for a time being until he had to stop himself from questioning his sexuality. He finished his drink and got up to leave to his room when he heard-

"Potter?"

Harry froze.

Please do not let this be who I think it is, Harry begged.

Harry tentatively turned around; he was dying to know if he was right, sometimes he was too curious for his own good.

The person that called him was unmistakable. He had blond hair, grey eyes, pointed features, and a look of astonishment. It was-

"Draco! I knew you would come today," a dark haired boy enthusiastically ran up to Malfoy and gave him a huge hug.

Harry snorted in a very Slughorn-like manner and turned around to get away from the Slytherin.

"Get off me! I need to talk to someone."

Harry imagined that the boy would look quite disappointed.

"Potter, stop!"

Harry knew his life would never be this easy. He knew he would get caught eventually, but damned if he was going to be caught by Malfoy so he could gloat about it in front of his Slytherin friends.

Harry ran out the bar and tried his best the navigate his destination (which he didn't know where).

"_Stupefy!_"

Harry felt a Stunner hit his back before he collapsed into darkness.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself on a canopy bed with jasmine fragrance. Harry quickly propped himself up and scanned the room.

The bed sheets were silk and there were floating candles near the ceiling. This meant that he was in a magical room, meaning he was caught. By Malfoy. That name left a sour taste in his mouth.

If he was going to be caught by Malfoy, he was not giving up without a fight. Before he would be taken by Voldemort, he would make sure to kick Malfoy's cowardly ass.

The door opened to reveal Harry's source of thoughts.

"Glad that you're awake Potter," Malfoy said with a smirk.

Harry was really tempted to wipe that smirk off of Malfoy's face with a nice punch.

"Where am I?" Harry asked.

"My house, Malfoy Manor. My parents are on vacation, so it's just the two of us."

Yeah and your Death Eater groupies who'll jump me if I retaliate, Harry wanted to say.

Harry was ready to take on Malfoy. He knew that before handling him to Voldemort, Malfoy would want to humiliate Harry in the worst way possible. He was not going to submit; he was ready to fight.

"Are you hungry?" Malfoy asked.

"No," Harry answered.

"Thirsty?"

"No."

Malfoy scowled.

"Fine, don't take advantage of my hospitality."

Harry looked at Malfoy defiantly. This was just like Malfoy, trying to make him loosen his guard, then attack him like a rabid dog.

"So what have you been doing all these years?" Malfoy asked while taking a seat at a nearby chair.

Harry took in Malfoy's appearance. Malfoy looked older now, more refined than he had been during Hogwart years. Malfoy's hair wasn't as screwed up as before, but Malfoy's taste in clothing remained the same. It was still impeccable to the degree of absurdity. Malfoy had on black robes with a white shirt underneath, all of its buttons tightened. Malfoy looked like one of those dolls that have their clothing glued onto them. He dress of clothing looked very uncomfortable.

"Well Potter? Are you going to answer me?"

"It's none of your concern, just take me to Voldemort already. I'd rather look at his ugly face than yours," Harry answered.

Malfoy looked like he wanted to say something witty at Harry but stopped himself.

"You're probably under the impression that I'm going to send you to the Dark Lord, but I'm not."

Harry quickly digested the information Malfoy just gave him. This meant that Harry was going to be kept here in Malfoy Manor, probably being humiliated everyday by Malfoy. Malfoy would must likely invite all of his friends to make fun of him. This thought despaired Harry. He'd rather be killed by Voldemort, at least that was more manly than being tortured by Malfoy, who happened to incidentally find him during "Queer Night." The horror! Malfoy would never let that one go!

"Oh for fuck's sake Potter, I'm on your side! I'm trying to help you. Don't be so defensive."

Harry looked at Malfoy questioningly. Malfoy help him? That's like Snape and Sirius becoming best friends. Harry remained silent, because anything he say at this point could be used against him.

"How do I make this more clear? I'm assuming you're going to try to kill the Dark Lord, correct?"

Harry nodded. It wasn't like this information was new. Of course Harry was trying to kill Voldemort.

"Well so am I. Why don't we help each other?" At this Malfoy smiled. In all of his six years in Hogwarts, if he learned anything, it was that a smiling Malfoy was never a good sign.

"What's in it for you? Why do you want to kill Voldemort?"

"You don't remember do you." It wasn't a question but a statement.

Since Harry didn't want to give away any information that could potentially harm him, he continued to simply glare at Malfoy.

"No matter, I'm your only option of getting close to the Dark Lord. So, be a good boy and listen carefully."

A/N: Thanks for all those who have reviewed. I don't really know about the pacing of this chapter because it all seems to be happening very fast. Please tell me what you think, I'm open to suggestions.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter gave Draco Malfoy the deadliest glare he could possibly muster. He certainly was not going to listen to anything Malfoy had to say to him; he was especially not going to be a "good boy" as Malfoy had so eloquently expressed. However Harry knew his fate was in the slimy, debauched hand of Draco Malfoy. Harry knew he had two options. One, possibly listen to Malfoy in his pathetic attempt to lure Harry with the "you don't remember anything" card, or two, try his best to intact his pride while he still could.

Looking at this two options, Harry instantly made up his mind and continued to glare.

Malfoy, upon acknowledging Harry's disdain, smirked even further, if that was humanly possibly, but then again Harry always thought Malfoy had some devilish quality about him.

"Potter you've grown dumber than the last time I saw you, and to think I thought your Gryffindor righteousness could not have sank any lower. No matter, change your disgusting muggle clothes and follow me," Malfoy said in a condescending way that further seethed Harry.

Harry hesitantly picked up the wizard robes, black, and eyed it suspiciously for any nasty curse then returned his gaze at Malfoy.

"You want to turn around so I could change?"

Malfoy frowned and angrily stomped out of the room.

What's his problem? Harry thought. I just want him to exhibit common courtesy.

Grumbling, Harry changed into the black robes and stepped out of the commodious room. Malfoy seemed to be fuming on a white leather couch. However Harry paid no attention to him because the scenery was simply unbelievable.

The room was vast and embellished with shiny objects with intricate decorations that would have taken decades to achieve. The walls had huge painting of what Harry perceive to be Malfoy's ancestors, all haughty and majestic. The paintings were quietly whispering among themselves as if sharing a delightful secret that no one but themselves could partake in. Even the frames that merely decorated them had a conceited air to it. Although individually, the paintings, along with their frames, seemed to be burdened with heavy decoration, they all seemed to merge together to create a perfect balance of a room.

There were two stairs that led up to upstairs, structuring the centerpiece of a chandelier, like everything else, was fortified with decoration to the point of sickness. The railing of the stairs matched everything else of the room and, in Harry's opinion, was made in solid gold. The floor to the room seemed just as sacred and untouchable; it seemed to be made of dark brown glass that looked as if it would shatter with the slightest weight.

Overall, though the room was heavily perfumed with details; it fit positively with Malfoy's personality. It was conceited and made others feel miniscule. Of course, Harry hated anything Malfoy, so he stepped heavily on to the glass-like floor (with his mud-filled shoes by the way, seeing as Malfoy didn't provide him with new shoes) in order to reach Malfoy.

Malfoy seemed to have regained his composure and gave Harry a look of disgust.

"Potter, your shoes are ruining the floor," Malfoy said.

With a snap of finger, a feeble-looking house elf appeared and presented expansive boots to Harry. Feeling pity for the house-elf, Harry changed his shoes, which disappeared along with the house-else.

"Potter, I know you're stupid and can't possibly comprehend anything I say. So, I'm just going to put this in the easiest way. What is it going to be for you to understand that I'm on your side?"

Harry was surprised at this question and thought carefully.

"Tell me where Ron and Hermione are. What happened to everybody? What's going on in the Wizarding world?" Harry asked.

"I don't know where your precious friends are Potter. And you have to specify who this 'everybody' is. What part of the Wizarding world are you asking about?"

Annoyed at Malfoy's incessant questioning, because Harry knew Malfoy did it on purpose, Harry gave another glare.

"I mean people at Hogwarts. I'm asking about the Ministry, obviously."

"A lot of people died and a lot of people became rich. Ministry's good right now, couldn't possibly be any better." Malfoy smirked, _again._

"Fine! Keep your secrets, I'll find information another way; it's not like I trust anything you say."

"Potter, you're the one who refuses to tell _me_ anything."

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't know anything!"

"Right, and that's precisely why you refuse to mention the Order of the Phoenix."

Harry stopped in his track and looked at Malfoy in confusion. How did Malfoy know?

He is a Death Eater, Harry rationalized.

"What? You think I didn't know about that? Everyone knows. The Dark Lord decimated them as soon as you 'died.' The Ministry right now is completely ran by Death Eaters."

Harry dreaded this truth. He knew from the bits of information from Slughorn that things were not so bright, but to think, the Order _decimated_ and Death Eaters running rampantly, slaughtering muggles. Harry closed his eyes to calm his beating heart.

"Seems like the perfect world for you. Why would you want to help me?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Of course it's not the perfect world. I don't like Mudbloods, but I never asked to be signed up to be completely ruled by a Half-blood who's on a power-trip. Excuse me, not the Half-Blood himself, but his maniac followers who had one too many _Crucio_'s to count. I never wanted to ruled by crazy people who have no idea how to run a government," Malfoy replied just as bitterly.

"What do you mean his followers?"

"The Dark Lord was very perspicuous and shrewd during the war, a bit cruel I admit, but after you destroyed all of his souls, he seemed to turn senile. He has no interest in the world and only attends social parties to have obsequious followers kiss his ass everyday."

"Then why do they keep him? Why not go ahead without him?"

"Potter, again, how dumb can you be? No, don't answer that, I really don't want to know your pathetic capability of human intelligence. I'll tell you. The Dark Lord is a symbol; a symbol of power that no one dares to question. Everyone is too afraid of what the other will do if he truly is gone. There will be a civil war, no doubt, on which Death Eater will rein supreme. The Dark Lord is just a mediator between Death Eater disputes; he's useless in any other arena of expertise."

Harry's thoughts jumbled at this point. Up to this chapter of his life, his sole goal was to defeat the Dark Lord. He knew, from day one, that once Voldemort was defeated, everything will be right again. He knew that without Voldemort, everything can persevere, no other obstacle other than Voldemort stood in the way of a serene, peaceful society. However, from Malfoy's words, things were completely different. It wasn't Voldemort who was the supreme enemy, but the whole government system itself. These thoughts dampened his mood drastically.

Nothing ever goes right does it? Harry thought.

As if reading Harry's thoughts Malfoy answered his dilemma.

"As long as you kill some important Death Eaters along with the Dark Lord, everything will turn its tide. The majority of the Wizarding population doesn't like this reign too much, even most Death Eaters."

"Why do you think I can succeed? I'm only lucky when it comes to escaping Voldemort," Harry asked sincerely.

"Maybe, but people will listen to you. After your presumed death, the whole Wizarding world seemed have just given up on the fight against Voldemort. Upon seeing this moment of weakness, Death Eaters overtook the Ministry and created this world. Potter, it's not about your magical ability or intelligence, because then there would be really no hope considering-"

"Malfoy just get on with it!"  
"Alright, no need to get impatient. My main contention to this argument is that your fame enough will grab the attention of the populace. Whether you like it or not, you're the poster boy for the Light; people will listen to you, and probably only you. Anyone can easily kill these Death Eaters, but it won't do any good. There are hundreds of people ready to fill these positions. However, when you do the killing, no one will dare to question you."

Harry was frustrated. He couldn't possibly understand what was so special about him that people seem to worship. It was all because of his sheer luck that he survived to this day. Luck that he survived Voldemort; luck that the muggles changed his appearance; and luck that enabled him to receive training from Regulus Black.

"Potter, think about it. You died a martyr, a bloody saint that died at such as young age-"

"So did many people, like Cedric and -"

"Potter, you're not listening to me. It doesn't matter what these others did, you're the one who openly oppose the Dark Lord at the worst of times; you're the one that lived through the first time. To everyone else, you're sacred, pristine, and unadulterated. You're the epitome of good. Why don't you get it through that thick head of yours? If you suddenly came back and executed those miscreants that made everyone suffer. You'll achieve a godly status."

Malfoy's words sank in. Harry had never thought things this way. He had always assumed that people thought he was a orphaned boy who wanted attention, and yet they turn to him at the darkest times for solace. They viewed him as some deity. It didn't matter that he was very mortal and almost died.

"Is that why your helping me? To have someone to hide for your political agendas?"

Harry knew not the trust Malfoy. If Malfoy offered to help, there must be another reason. He would not just readily throw away six years of antagonism so that Harry could "save the world."

"If that's what you want to believe Potter. I know you don't trust me, but I'm possibly your last hope in achieving your goal."

"Why? What makes you think that I couldn't just sneak into the homes of Death Eaters and kill them nice and easy?"

Malfoy's expressions were unreadable, but there was no hatred or hint of a smirk.

"You can't get in that easily. You'll have to get past all the heavy security."

At this reply, Harry said down at the milky colored sofa and let himself simply melt into it. Him work with Malfoy? This thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He would have to depend on Malfoy. He would have to do everything to Malfoy's whim because he needed Malfoy.

"Why do you so readily accept this? I thought you hated me."

"Things aren't good right now. I may be still rich, but to have every laughter sugarcoated with lies and to have every smile burdened with anguish, it starts to take on toll on your after three years."

"That can't be right. You never simply help because it benefits other people," Harry insisted. He had to get the crux of the matter. He was not going to settle for anything less.

"Fine, if you don't believe then come with me."

Malfoy flared his black robes walked pretentiously to a gigantic fireplace with an equally intimidating fire and said "Diagon Alley" while dusting himself with floo-powder in an ornate jar.

Annoyed that Malfoy had to so showy, Harry tried to emanate his vexation through another glare, but Malfoy's body was engulfed by the flare and disappeared. Harry followed Malfoy's example and cried "Diagon Alley" with a handful of floo-powder, glad that he didn't have glasses this time.

Harry's body twirled with an all-too-familiar feeling and fell to the ground of Leaky Cauldron.

Harry heard a snicker and knew instantly that Malfoy was the culprit. He decided not to comment and tried his best to stand out without looking like a fool.

"Potter, follow my lead. Try to look like a servant of mine and don't talk unless I tell you to."

Harry was peeved that he had to play the servant. It must be Malfoy's dream come true to have him to wait on Malfoy. Harry merely huffed and soaked in his surrounding.

Leaky Cauldron was not what it used to be. There was not a huge crowd and the friendly atmosphere was no longer alive. Although it was very nosy, it just felt different than his previous visits.

Malfoy walked just as conceited as before and no one seemed to pay any attention to him, as if having a Harry Potter look alike following the Malfoy heir was a common day occurrence. Harry decided not to questions good things while they lasted.

Malfoy tapped his wand three times at the wall to uncover the vast world of Diagon Alley.

"Where's my wand, Malfoy?" Harry hissed.

"I have it, now shut up and look like a servant," Malfoy snapped.

Diagon Alley mirrored the Leaky Cauldron and the Muggle World. It was deadly quiet compared to what it had previously been. There were still numerous people shopping, though it probably was not as busy because school year had already begun. Yet, even with the comfort of the crowd, the mood still remained bleak. There were no ruddy children running around; they were all held firmly by the hands by mothers who all seemed apprehensive. There were no flashy objects or pleasant conversation occurring; everyone seemed to be suspicious of each other.

Several people exchanged pleasantries with Malfoy, yet they all did not question Harry's presence. Just like Malfoy had explained, every conversation seemed fake as if they were all in a cinema, acting out their respected roles.

Malfoy continued to walked down Diagon Alley and quickly approached Knockturn Alley. Harry intuition told him this did not bode well.

As soon as they walked into the supposed territories of Knockturn Alley, the atmosphere changed drastically. It became noisier, raucously rude to any newcomers who may happened to stumble into this place. The stores looked, if possible, more shoddy and shady looking. The streets, though were impeccable, somehow looked filthy and slimy. The road became narrower; the buildings became taller and darker.

The people in this place did not help this impression. They were all dressed in various, strange looking clothing that did not look, in any way, ethnic or respectable. The people were similar to the men at _Mirage_ except worse.

The farther Malfoy went, the worse it became. Pretty soon, there were many scantily clad people talking loudly. At this Harry looked at Malfoy questioningly. But Malfoy did not return his gaze and simply walked further.

Then it hit Harry. This was the red-light district. They were all prostitutes selling their bodies. Why the hell would Malfoy take him here?

Harry pretended to be servant and kept his mouth shut. The situation became simply from bad to worse. Several of the prostitutes looked emaciated, like they hadn't eaten for days, and yet they continue to flirt outrageously with an apathetic Malfoy, who did not even bat his eyes at their direction.

Soon, Malfoy's steps stopped in front of a starving-looking sandy haired boy, whose outfits were offensively conspicuous.

"Draco, nice to see you," the boy purred.

"Thomas," Malfoy nodded.

Dean Thomas? Harry could not help but gape at the image before. Dean looked like a shadow of his former self. Gone with his enthusiasm for muggle football and unrequited love of Ginny Weasley, he was filled with despair and yet continued to smile in what Harry surmise as seductive.

"You want some action?" Dean said casually, but those words pierced Harry. They were a reminder of how he, the Hero, had failed. Failed to kill Voldemort, failed to stop this madness.

"No, not really," Malfoy responded. Harry was glad that Malfoy was not going to get it on with Dean.

"Then why are you here?" Dean's smile faltered a bit.

"Can't I visit an old classmate?"

Something in Dean's demeanor changed, but it was gone as quickly as it came. The saccharine smile returned.

"So what can I do for you?"

"Just reminiscing about the good old days," Malfoy answered with a smirk.

Dean's body trembled, in either humiliation or anger, Harry was not sure.

"Do keep up the good job Thomas, you're improving the society." Malfoy's hands traced Dean's chest and all the way down to his hips.

Harry could tell Dean did not want Malfoy touching him from the flinches, but Dean did nothing to hinder Malfoy's wondering hands. Surreptitiously, Malfoy placed something gold and shiny into Dean's pocket next to his hip.

Dean gave Malfoy a look of surprise.

"See you around Thomas."

Malfoy quickly turned around and walked back to Leaky Cauldron, and Harry promptly followed.

When Harry stepped a foot inside the polished floor of Malfoy Manor (without tripping onto the floor), Malfoy opened the doors to a mahogany cabinet and threw a wand at Harry. Normally, Harry would be touched by this action and perhaps change his views of Malfoy, but this situation paralleled to that of Slughorn's pretend offer of assistance.

"Potter, I just gave you your wand, do you still have to look at me like I ate your pet?" Malfoy sneered.

"I still don't trust your motive," Harry replied equally vehemently.

Malfoy used his left hand to massage his temple.

"Did you not see Thomas whoring himself for food? Or perhaps you didn't see utter desolation of the Wizarding world?"

Harry thought about Malfoy's response. At first Harry was willing to believe that Malfoy's altruism had some veracity, however the way Malfoy had easily offered Harry's wand actually increased Harry's suspicion than the intended effect Malfoy wished to achieve. Harry knew that even if Malfoy was willing to help Harry in changing the Wizarding world, Malfoy would not allow Harry to access a wand; it was simply tactless. However, Harry realized that like his previous situations, he had absolutely no other choice but to simply follow what Fate had thrown at him.

"I saw, but it's just hard to see you in a different light Malfoy," Harry said cautiously. He knew offending Malfoy would be stupid, so he purposely played into Malfoy's hands and put up his guard. Harry knew he had to play Malfoy's game to bring himself closer to his goal. He had to do it to at least free Dean.

Malfoy seemed to believe Harry and nodded.

"So what plan do you have in mind to kill Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"It's simple. I get you close enough to the Dark Lord. You kill him, then quickly kill his dogs, who, I assure you, will be standing close to him."

"When I kill Voldemort, wouldn't the Death Eater easily react and kill me instead?"

"Not if you poison them," Malfoy smirked.

Malfoy's smirks were starting to take a toll on Harry's sanity. It's simply annoying the hell out of him and Malfoy's answers were making no sense.

"Why don't we just kill them with poison in the first place?" Harry asked logically.

"Potter, stop being dumb. Firstly, you want to make the most extravagant killing spree so that nobody will oppose you. Second, you think they don't have detectors for poison? But, a simple Impediment Potion, which is quite harmless under normal circumstances, will pass the detectors easily. After you kill the Dark Lord, this potion will delay the reactions of Death Eaters, thus giving you easy access to kill them all." Malfoy had a gleeful look that gave Harry shudders.

"You obviously thought this through."

"I've been thinking about doing it myself, but I'll just get lynched afterwards," Malfoy said if he was reporting the weather. "Potter, before you set yourself up for this task, there are many things you have to get to. For one, you need to integrate yourself in pureblood society, via me. Then you have to better your dueling skills, you're horrid."

"I'm perfectly fine!"

"I remember dueling you in Second Year, if you didn't talk to snakes, I would have kicked your ass so hard that you couldn't walk straight for weeks, so I say you need to work on it." Malfoy was cleaning his fingernails of nonexistent dirt and refused to look Harry in the eye.

"Well, I remember dueling you in Sixth Year, and…" Harry faltered. He didn't really want to be reminded of that memory because the results were faults at Harry's part. He never intended to use a Dark Curse to hurt Malfoy. If Snape had not been conveniently passing by, then Malfoy may not be standing in front of him today.

At the thought of Snape, Harry clinched his fist. Harry sure hoped that Snape was one of the Death Eaters Harry had to kill.

Malfoy looked at him with a peculiar look. "What the hell's wrong with you Potter?"

"What happened to Snape?"

"Probably dead," Malfoy answered. The effect was instantaneous, Malfoy's face turned stoic and his reply was phlegmatic. It was Harry's turn for concern.

"He turned out to be a spy for Dumbledore."

"He killed Dumbledore!"

"Only upon Dumbledore's order. Don't ask me why Dumbledore wanted to off himself, but after the Dark Lord found out about Snape's loyalty, Snape has been on the top of the wanted list."

"If he's still on the wanted list, then that means no one has killed him yet," Harry reasoned. Snape, Harry knew, was in no way royal to Dumbledore. Why would anyone want to kill himself? Even if Dumbledore had been noble and self-sacrificing, Harry did not see the benefit of his death.

"I don't know. You can't survive long in the muggle world without an identity. Even if you find a suitable hiding place, it can't protect you. Snape probably altered his appearance and was killed by the muggles. After couple of months, spells and potions eventually ebb away so that any hiding wizards are found. That's why Mudbloods live in the Wizarding world or else they'd be killed if they disobey the rules."

"Which is?"

"All magical personnel has to stay within the jurisdiction of the Ministry or else they will be executed immediately."

Harry fused his eyebrows. This law made no sense whatsoever. How did Slughorn and Regulus Black remain in hiding? How was he able to stay so long hidden from the magical world? What about the Order members? Did this mean they are all subjected to this harsh world?

"What about Slughorn?" Harry asked, deliberately leaving the first name.

"Which one? Horace Slughorn gets his mouth dirtied everyday by kissing the feet of the Dark Lord. Hubert Slughorn is an outcast that hides in a pathetic muggle facility." Malfoy's attitude remained apathetic and Harry had no indication of what Malfoy felt toward this issue.

"Why is Hubert Slughorn allowed to live with muggles?"

"Slughorn's useless. He thinks he's hiding from the Ministry because of his relationship with Albus Dumbledore. But everyone knows that he's too much of a paranoid coward with no ambition and won't even kill an ant without thinking it could kill him."

Harry had to hold back a snicker at Malfoy's analysis of Slughorn. Though this thought amused Harry, he wondered if the Ministry knew of Harry's existence.

"Is the ministry in touch with Slughorn's activities?" Harry asked.

"Not anymore. He's not interesting anyways. He's friends with some old geezer Regulus Black. Since this Regulus Black is a direct descendant, Grimmauld Place belongs to him, so the Ministry really can't do anything to remove."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but continued to question Malfoy so he could continue to blab on to sway Harry's specific questions.

"I thought Sirius Black was the direct descendant," Harry said absentmindedly. Harry didn't really care what happened to Grimmauld Place, as long as nobody knew about his existence other than Malfoy.

"What? So you can inherit Grimmauld Place," Malfoy asked with a look of annoyance. "Hate to break it to you Potter, but you don't own the world."

"It's a legitimate question, and I don't think I own the world." Harry decided to use their still existing enmity to make it look as if he was asking questions unrelated to his knowledge of the two elderly, eccentric people.

"Everyone thought Regulus Black died after the fall of Grindelwald, but he still lived. He's useless anyways. He's an invalid that could hardly make it out the doors of Grimmauld Place. He's worse off than Slughorn."

Harry found this bit of information particularly interesting. Slughorn was under the impression he was hiding from the Ministry, yet Regulus Black was somehow aware of the surveillance and feigned old-age.

Even though this information was intriguing, Harry had more pressing matter to ask.

"What about the Order?" He could not hide his anticipation of the answer and stood up from the couch and gave Malfoy his undivided attention.

Something in Malfoy's face soften, mellowing Malfoy's tone.

"Many of them killed. Those who are alive is probably working their asses off at some crap job, shouldn't you know this Potter?"

"What..what do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I mean, it's understandable that you don't know about the outside world, but you should at least know about the whereabouts of your buddies. Wait, don't tell me they're not the ones resurrected you!" Malfoy's face was completely engulfed by curiosity. Harry hesitated in answering Malfoy's question; he didn't want to reveal any information that could bring danger to him.

"I-uh"

Very articulate Potter, a little voice in Harry's head taunted.

"I thought you were just trying to act dumb the first time, pretending that you don't know anything about the Order when really you're the crucial part of it. I thought you were asking questions that the Order wanted to know about the current Ministry without revealing your relationship with them."

"If I am, why would I be at a muggle bar?" Harry asked, but soon realized that might evoke unwanted questions from Malfoy.

"I thought maybe the Order got captured and you escaped, like you always do. If this isn't the case, that means the precious Order thinks you're dead too." The gleeful look on Malfoy's face returned; Harry's guts twisted at the implication of those words.

"Well, well, Potter, looks like I got you all to myself. No matter, we'll succeed together. By the way, what exactly have you been doing the last three and half years?"

"I was in a coma."

"With amnesia as a result?"

Harry nodded unwillingly.

If possible, Malfoy looked even more ecstatic. Harry was really dreading what Malfoy was going to say. Harry knew Malfoy was going to take advantage of his vulnerability and attack him until he couldn't possibly tell the difference between left and right. He'd better be reincarnated into a king or something in the next life, because Buddha owed him one.

"It doesn't really matter, because we don't need the Order to implement our plans." Harry wanted to object that it wasn't really their plan, just Malfoy's stupid plan, but held his tongue.

"Potter, I have just the thing to get into the pureblood society undetected."

The happy air that Malfoy exuded was slowly stifling Harry to death. Harry wanted to close his eyes and run away (but he'd probably run into a wall on the way, so he didn't do this). Although Harry really did not want to know what was going on in the demented head of Draco Malfoy, Harry pressed the matter because it could determine the fate of the Wizarding world.

"Yes?"

"You're going to my whore."


End file.
